


Shore Leave

by busaikko



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Break Up, Community: satedan_grabass, Episode: s05e20 Enemy at the Gate, Injury, M/M, Post-Canon, San Francisco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 10:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/busaikko/pseuds/busaikko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Enemy at the Gate, Ronon's trying to heal his body and his relationship with John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shore Leave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rubygirl29](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubygirl29/gifts).



> For Rubygirl29, for the 2013 Satedan Grabass exchange. Sorry to be so late: this story really got away from me! Many thanks to my fabulous beta, Mific ♥
> 
> Prompts: "hurt/comfort, Ronon on earth, I love stories that include Lorne"

> And I wondered how the same moon outside  
>  Over this Chinatown fair  
>  Could look down on Illinois  
>  And find you there  
>  And you know I love you Baby
> 
> And I'm so far away from home  
>  And I miss my Baby so  
>  I can't make it by myself  
> Shore Leave(Tom Waits)  
> 

* * *

Not being dead was good, and Ronon was glad to still be breathing and strong, but being free of the infirmary would be _better_. Beckett was worried that Ronon's previous experiences with Wraith enzyme and having his life sucked away might have unforeseen consequences: perhaps he'd fall back into cravings and madness. He felt fine, even though he knew he'd bled out, and Ronon had to admit that was kind of creepy. He should be feeling like crap.

Being free of the Wraith forever would be _best_ , he thought, more despairing than angry, and tried to focus on the documentary Lorne was showing him on his computer. Ronon had missed most of the first part, because he'd been eating his way through all the snacks Lorne brought, but now he didn't have anything to distract himself.

Against his best efforts, he was picking up all kinds of weird facts about Lorne's home city. It was named for a holy man who'd been poor and loved animals, but one of its great landmarks was a prison. The bridge that was visible from Atlantis was apparently so long that by the time the bridge painters reached the far end, they had to start painting it again.

He wondered why no one invented better paint. Atlantis had survived ten thousand years under the ocean and hadn't rusted or rotted. He bet Zelenka or McKay could figure out the Ancestors' techniques. They'd be hated by unemployed bridge-painters everywhere.

He asked Lorne to hand him another soda – the sweetness reminded him of the bean soup he'd loved as a kid.

"I guess this is pretty boring," Lorne said, shifting awkwardly in the chair he'd dragged around. He turned the volume down so it was just a murmur. "I just thought...."

"It's cool." Ronon raised his eyebrows to show he was serious. "The city's old and important for your people. Nothing wrong with being proud of your home." He shot Lorne a sly glance. "You want to hear what I've been told about your football team?"

Lorne grinned and tapped the laptop's plastic case. "I've got about twenty gigabytes worth of games on here. We can do that next."

Ronon pointed at the festival on the screen in an attempt to make Lorne forget about football. "What's that?"

"The Pride Parade."

There was something in Lorne's voice like a warning, but Ronon wasn't going to learn anything if he didn't ask. "Are they soldiers or game players?" The flags reminded him of football colors, but the leathers wouldn't have been out of place on any Satedan specialist.

"Gay pride," Lorne explained, and his voice couldn't have been flatter if he'd pressed it. "And kind of what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Huh," Ronon said, and leaned forward to punch Lorne in the shoulder to let him know they were cool. He glanced at the screen again, and okay, he could kind of see that the marchers were moving in same-sex groups, but mostly they looked like any people having a celebration. Some of them had kids with them. "I thought your people kept that a secret."

Lorne looked baffled. "It's not illegal in most places in this country. Not anymore. But in the military – _my_ military – if you get caught you're kicked out, so, yeah. For some people, it has to be secret."

Ronon frowned. No one had cared on Sateda – well, parents wanted grandchildren, but there were ways to get around that. Ronon had been namesake to three nieces and nephews before he'd even met Melena, who'd liked that his family didn't pressure her into having her own. She'd wanted to finish her studies and set up her own small clinic. Her sister had been in a three-woman partnering, and they'd been raising two culling-orphans. That was how things were on Sateda: if you served the community honorably and well, no one really cared how.

"You think Sheppard would dismiss someone if he knew?"

Lorne looked serious, his expression making the subtle shift that told Ronon he was speaking from his position, not as a friend. "No. I know there've been... incidents, and he let things slip instead of making a big deal of them. He's a good person." He shrugged, and the mask slipped away, replaced by the cool warning look again. "So's Sergeant Amelia Banks."

Ronon almost smiled, finally understanding what they were talking about. He guessed maybe if he wasn't stuck in the infirmary, Lorne wouldn't have had to be cryptic, and they both could have done without learning the history of streetcars and prisons.

"I'm not going to hurt her," Ronon said. He wished he knew what kinds of oaths Earth people took seriously; he had nothing to swear by except his personal word. He gave it anyway. "On my name and my house." He briefly wondered if Lorne was trying to entrap him, but figured once he started being that paranoid he might as well give up. "I don't plan on hurting Dawn, either," he added, keeping his voice low.

Lorne scowled, and Ronon wondered if he'd thought they'd have this conversation without naming names.

"Trust me," Ronon said. "I'm not... trying to break them up. I can't tell you, but – it's okay. Really."

That earned him a reluctant sigh, and Lorne tapped the button that stopped the video, now that they weren't watching it anymore. "I trust you," Lorne said. "I do."

Ronon felt his chest tighten, because he wasn't lying to Lorne, not exactly, but he wasn't telling the whole truth, and that sat badly with him.

He was going to have to talk to John; he felt the need for it pull at him like a compass needle straining for the pole.

That didn't mean it wasn't going to hurt almost as bad as being stabbed to death by the Wraith.

*

He'd been sleeping with John for most of a year. They'd survived a lot: Ronon leaving, John disappearing, John's dad and Elizabeth dying. What broke them in the end was Torren's birth, because no matter what promises they made when it was just the two of them ready to fight to the death, deep down Ronon wanted Satedan kids. He'd been stupid enough to tell John so when he had Torren cradled in his arms, tiny face turned to his chest, mouth rooting for a nipple and the comfort of milk.

"Okay," John had said, and nodded like this was an easy fix. "Sure. It's been fun , but" – and he shrugged, stiffly because of his post-surgery bandages – "I get it. You're young. You want to settle down." And then he'd walked away, slow and easy, while Ronon'd felt like Torren was an anchor weighing him down, keeping him from following after.

So Ronon nearly fucked up his friendship with McKay by fighting with him over Keller, even though he knew that Keller would make her own decision, and his posturing looked desperate and foolish. After Keller he took Biro out a few times and discovered she didn't want kids, and then he had a few dates with some of the nurses, who weren't looking for anything serious, either.

He complained to McKay about Lanteans just wanting _fun_ , and Rodney gave him an exaggerated look of disbelief, as if he couldn't believe how stupid Ronon was.

"People who want to start families either never come here in the first place, or go home," Rodney said, flat, like it was a fact. "You know, Earth? Where they have parents and brothers and sisters and friends to help, and there are no Wraith?" He grimaced, like he knew he was being rude. "Find a nice Athosian girl."

Ronon smiled his anger, and McKay's eyes widened and flicked nervously to the doorway.

"I don't want any children of mine to live in fear of the Wraith," Ronon said, clipping the words because how could McKay not know that? Every child in this galaxy was a a prayer to the Ancestors for an end to the suffering, hope made into life because that was all that could be done.

"Then you need to move to Earth," McKay said, blunt honesty that hit like Teyla's fighting sticks. "Make a life there, meet someone, be as domestic as your heart desires." He looked up at Ronon, chin raised to signal he was being brave. "Jennifer and I talk about it. We have a plan for when our contracts are both up. You have... literally given your life several times over. If you asked him, Sheppard would throw all the weight he has into getting you set up on Earth. Also, Sam Carter or Woolsey – hell, even the IOA know you and love you." Rodney's mouth thinned, and as he looked away Ronon thought he saw regret or sadness in his eyes.

He didn't know if it was from thinking about the team disbanding, or because Rodney was John's closest friend and he knew that John and Ronon had stopped being lovers. Probably the first, Ronon decided. John didn't seem affected by the break-up at all. He'd fallen back into companionable friendship with Ronon with such ease that sometimes Ronon's memories of fucking him, of John's cock in his mouth or the way John cried out when he came, felt like dreams. John was trying to get Ronon to go on some camping and surfing trip for his annual long holiday, and Ronon wasn't sure he could handle that much closeness without snapping. He didn't want to fight with John, but frustration made his temper flash quickly from a slow simmer to a full boil.

"I'll think about it," Ronon had said. He was tied to Pegasus by a fine network of vows of honor. Plenty of men had walked away from their vows and survived – lived good lives, too. Ronon was terrified of finding out whether he was that kind of man. Whether he could walk away from a war that would never end.

Then Michael attacked the city and Ronon started hanging out with Amelia, and suddenly it felt like everything was coming together. He liked Amelia, who was funny and trained hard, and who trusted him enough that she introduced him to her partner. Dawn was a geologist and an ATA carrier, and her round face was creased in smile lines. Dawn and Amelia had their own plans for the future.

"A small house," Dawn said, and Amelia put a hand to the back of her neck and squeezed with gentle fondness. "Who wants to spend all their time cleaning? A yard big enough for a vegetable garden and cookouts. And lots of kids."

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Two," she corrected. "And a dog."

Ronon liked the mental pictures he had of that house in the future. "It'd be safe?"

Dawn probably knew about Sateda; she gave him a warm look that made him think of his own mother, always ready with a hug or a kiss when he was young enough to not turn them away. "We have a lot of money saved and good jobs available when we leave here. We'll find a good neighborhood. As safe as possible."

Ronon bit his lip and nodded. The kids in his village used to play on the roofs, jumping from one to the other. He'd broken his arm twice. Kids did stuff, and he was prepared for that. As long as there was no war and no Wraith.

"You will always be welcome," Amelia said, with a strange current of intensity. "Be part of their lives, if that's what you want."

Ronon had a hip-carrier for Torren, and took him all over the city. Pretty soon though, Torren'd be walking on his own, and running. Saying words Ronon taught him. It was a good feeling. "Yeah." He had to clear his throat to keep his voice from sticking. "I'd like that." He shrugged, weirdly embarrassed. "Every kid needs an uncle, right?"

Dawn grinned. "I've got four," she said, and got up to show him a picture. As he looked at her as a child, surrounded by family, he felt the desperate need in him ease. Earth was a good place for Sateda to continue. A good place for his children to make a home, even if he wasn't there all the time. He felt lighter and stronger, knowing that things he'd thought impossible might actually have a chance to come true.

*

Ronon got Lorne to bring him his laptop and hook him up with the internet in the infirmary. He also asked for money, because he heard he had some, somewhere. That meant that he got to spend an hour while Woolsey explained about cash and credit cards, and why his name on the Visa card and his California driver's license was spelled _Dexter_.

Woolsey said that the SGC wouldn't keep track of what he charged to the card. Ronon took that to mean that they _would_ , but Woolsey had to deny it officially. He appreciated the warning.

A couple days after that, Keller finally got sick of having him around, pulled his stitches, and let Ronon leave, even though he still had a course of medicine to complete. Amelia came by to help him carry his stuff, because Ronon didn't want to piss Keller off, and that meant that when they ran into John in the corridor, everything was painfully awkward.

"You going somewhere?" Ronon asked, and frowned because he hadn't meant that to sound like an accusation.

John chewed on his lip and tried to look open and friendly at the same time. It didn't work.

"Thought I'd come by and see you," he said, reluctantly. He gave an apologetic head-nod to Amelia. "Guess I'll catch up with you later."

Ronon hadn't told Amelia about him and John – because the rule _was_ to keep it secret, no matter how Lorne dressed that up. But she picked up on the tension and maybe thought they needed to talk anyway, because she gave John an apologetic smile and handed him Ronon's duffel bag and laptop case.

"Actually, sir, if you could do this, that'd be great. We're training the new gate techs, and I really should" – she jerked her thumb over her shoulder, already taking a step away. "Thanks."

"No problem," John said easily. "Don't let them blow anything up."

Amelia gave him a fake-offended look that said she remembered full well that he was the last person to blow the gate up. She waved at both of them, and jogged off.

"Sorry," John said.

"I'm not supposed to carry things." Ronon didn't know what to say to John out here where people might overhear, so he just headed for the transporter. John fell into step with him easily, and his feet remembered the way to Ronon's room well enough, even if he hadn't been inside since the break up.

Once the door was shut behind them, Ronon watched in amusement as John set about unpacking his belongings and putting them away. The books went on the table together with the hand-held voice recorder, and his clothes were refolded and set on the shelf. John didn't seem to get what he was doing until he found himself holding Ronon's toothbrush. Ronon grinned, and when John glanced at him in embarrassment, pointed towards the washroom.

"Asshole," John said, but dropped it in the plastic cup anyway. "Yeah, okay, you probably could have carried that yourself."

"Maybe," Ronon agreed. "Can you take some time off? I want to see the city. Woolsey says I need a chaperone."

John crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "I'm headed out to the SGC in ten days," he said. "Maybe Tuesday?"

"Tuesday and Wednesday," Ronon said. "Or Monday and Tuesday. Either works for me."

John rolled his eyes. "No night clubs," he warned. "I've been stabbed myself before; I know alcohol and dancing are not your friends right now."

"I want to go shopping," Ronon said. "I have a card." John's expression went comically alarmed. "And I've been warned about not using it to buy weapons, relax." He shrugged and sat down on the edge of the bed. Walking this far had tired him out. "There's a park, and the bridge. Lorne showed me a video."

John's eyes narrowed. "He shows everyone the video. He probably gets kickbacks from the local tourism board." He pointed at Ronon. "I'm not going to Alcatraz."

Ronon grinned. "Yeah. That's not part of my plan."

*

John couldn't get two full days off, but he managed a day and a half, which Ronon figured was good enough. Ronon didn't want to attract stares, so he wore his long-sleeved black shirt and his loose fabric trousers, and the suit jacket someone at the SGC had bought for him. He'd had Keller check him out that morning, and he wasn't going to push himself. He wanted this to be as easy and comfortable as possible.

John was the perfect person to go shopping with for Torren, which didn't surprise Ronon much. He had a good eye for which toys would break easily, or which looked good but wouldn't grab a kid's interest. He gravitated towards things which were high-quality and simple; Ronon figured that was because John grew up rich, but he didn't say that. John was also good at choosing presents for Teyla and Keller, advising Ronon to avoid anything with a size ("even women can't figure out their sizes," he explained) or a smell, or anything that enforced gender roles ("no cookware, ever"). Ronon ended up with a bag of photo frames made of glasswork like Atlantis' windows, and then some digital cameras to go with them. He liked cameras as long as they weren't aimed at him, and Teyla liked pictures of Torren.

He felt kind of stupid after that, because the bags were heavy so of course John insisted on carrying them.

"We should head to the hotel," he said, and dug around in his pocket for the Google map he'd printed.

John looked at him sidelong. "You don't want to get Banks something? Jewelry?"

"She's not my girlfriend," Ronon said. "But I don't want to talk about that on the street."

That made John as jittery as if he had fish in his jeans, but he followed along, keeping his silence except to yank Ronon aside when they got to the hotel and ask if he understood what the prices meant.

"Yeah," Ronon said. John gave him a look. "I've risked and given my life for... our people, back home and here. Your government pays me a gratuity. If I want to sleep one night in a big bed and look at the ocean without seeing the fucking prison, what better use do I have for money?" 

John held his hands up as best he could without dropping the bags. There were lines on his fingers from the handles; it figured that he hadn't complained. "Okay," he said. "You're the man with the Visa card. But I'm buying dinner."

Ronon grunted. Keller had given him a very short list of things he was allowed to eat, and he had no intention of having to be ferried back to Atlantis with a screwed-up digestion. He figured John knew that, seeing as he'd had abdominal surgery twice in the past year and had dropped a lot of weight that he hadn't had to spare. "Whatever. I want to take a shower."

John shrugged and tipped his head in a _go ahead, knock yourself out_ gesture, so Ronon went right up to the counter and said he had a reservation. Just like he belonged here.

There were hundreds of hotels in the city, and Ronon had practically gone cross-eyed trying to pick one. The one he'd decided on was made of bricks, and reminded him of the warehouses in the old quarter of Notase City, down between the Ancestor's Ring and the river. He didn't know what it looked like to John, but when the guide from reception keyed the door to the room open and started explaining the amenities, John gave a low appreciative whistle. Ronon figured maybe he'd made the right decision.

"Let me know if you need anything," she concluded, and John said they sure would, slipping her some money as she left. Ronon had forgotten that people did that here.

"Sorry," he said, and stripped off his jacket, tossing it on the bed near the door. He couldn't get his shirt off as easily, but John was pretending to look out the window, so Ronon figured he wouldn't get called on his gracelessness. He left his boots by the door and threw his trousers over the desk chair, but figured he shouldn't tease John too much. That wasn't why they were here, for him to make John think that he could never have what he wanted.

The hotel had a whole range of fancy soaps, creams, cleansers, lotions, and shampoos all lined up on the expanse of counter, next to the stack of soft white towels. Ronon approved of towels. He wondered if the hotel sold any downstairs. He'd ask later.

He washed away the day's sweat and the feeling of being sidelined by illness and passed by. It was good to leave Atlantis and finally see the city everyone'd been talking about. He scrubbed his face and then grabbed a toothbrush and did his teeth as well, feeling clean inside and out.

The scar on his side stood out when he studied himself in the mirror, but he was healing. He wrapped a towel around his hips and tucked the end in tight, and went out to see what John was up to.

Not much, was the answer. John was still standing by the window. He had a canned drink from the room's refrigerator, and was studying the city as if it was a puzzle.

"We can talk now," Ronon said, and sat down on the bed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his legs and curling his toes into the soft carpeting.

"I don't..." John started, and put his drink down on the desk, leaning his ass against the window ledge. "What you do with your personal life, you don't have to share with me."

"I want kids," Ronon said, and John interrupted to say, "I know you do."

"Shut up," Ronon told him. It was hard enough figuring out how to not break anyone's trust, without dealing with random commentary. "Amelia's friend wants to start her family. Without a man." John nodded once, to show he was following, but Ronon couldn't read his expression. "So we're thinking, she stays on Earth and is a great mom to Satedan kids." Ronon shrugged. "That's it. What do you think?"

John blew out his breath and looked tired. "What about you?" he asked. "Are you going to be happy? I'm," he waved one hand, "working my ass off to get Atlantis back to Pegasus. If you come back with us, you're going to miss – most of the kid's whole life."

"On Earth she'll have a life," Ronon said. "She won't be scared. I'll have done that for her. And maybe when the Wraith are gone, things will be different."

"Banks put in a request for transfer back to Earth," John said. "Which I'm approving. I thought..."

Ronon pushed to his feet, tucking the loosening end of the towel down with his thumb. He crossed over to John, looked out at the ocean and then down at the drop from their window – high, but not unscalable in an emergency, he supposed. He took a breath, then turned to look into John's eyes. "I figured you walked away because what we had wasn't important to you. Seemed like you didn't care."

"You wanted what I couldn't give you," John said, voice low and rough. "You deserved better."

Ronon poked him in the shoulder. "I deserved a hard kick to the head."

"Someone who loves you," John went on doggedly. "A family."

"Someone who loves me," Ronon agreed, and put his hand up to cup the side of John's jaw. There was rough stubble against his palm, and he traced a line with his thumb. "I'm sorry."

John swallowed hard. "Are we done talking?"

"You got something better to do?" Ronon used his other hand to find a beltloop, hooking his finger through and pulling John forward. John took the hint and closed the space between them, his mouth meeting Ronon's with a heat that flashed through him like electricity. John's hands pushed Ronon's shoulders back against the cool glass of the window, holding him pinned there while John pressed against him, like he never planned on ending the kiss. Ronon was fine with that, grabbing a handful of John's hair to tip his head back and lay claim to John's mouth. He felt John's fingernails on his bare skin, too short to scratch but a solid counterpart to the way John was panting into his mouth now, like he had to hang on to keep from falling.

The towel was wedged firmly between Ronon's ass and the window, but in the front it was undone and every push of John's hips made it drop a little farther down. It was weird being so exposed when John was fully clothed, but Ronon felt the opposite of vulnerable, like there was power in being bare-skinned. The Wraith had tried to take this from him, had ripped him open, but here he was. Desired, he thought. Wanted.

"Hey," he said, pulling away and getting a satisfying eyeful of John's desperate expression. "There's a bed. Get naked."

John looked down and gave Ronon's dick a quick grin. "You chafed?" he asked, half-muffled as he worked his shirt over his head. He dropped it to the floor and ran his thumb over the head of Ronon's dick in brief apology. "Sorry."

Ronon grabbed John's waistband and whipped the belt-end free of the buckle, and then started thumbing the buttons open.

John laughed and stepped back out of reach, holding his pants up with one hand and pulling his wallet out with the other, flipping it onto the bed. "You trying to make me fall on my face?" He sat down and worked his boots off, kicking them and then his jeans under the bed and out of the way.

Ronon watched: he hadn't had a good chance to look at John's new scars yet. The dent in his side was from Michael's boobytrap, and on his stomach was the wicked red pucker where a tentacle had punched in. Ronon knew there'd be a matching mark on his back, where the tentacle came out. A finger's length to the left and John's spine would have been ripped apart, Beckett had said at the time. If John hadn't been lucky, he would have been dead. Ronon pushed off from the window, snagging the towel, and walked around to go sit behind John. Yup, there was the scar. Above it, broken glass had carved a constellations of white scars into the back of John's shoulder.

Ronon wrapped his arms around John and pulled him to his chest, making him twist like an eel, trying to get leverage but not trying to get free. It was a lot more like wrestling than hugging, but that was cool – wrestling and sex weren't that much different. Ronon got a hold on John's hips and let his dick slide home between John's legs, until the head bumped John's balls through the thin fabric of his boxers.

"You can do better than that," John said, trying to sound scornful even though he was shoving his ass back and tightening his thighs in a way he had to know drove Ronon nuts. "Fuck me?"

Ronon leaned over John, stretching to grab his wallet and letting his hips push John down into the mattress.

"I'm sorry," John said, sounding strangled. "Is my _breathing_ getting in the way of you rubbing all over my ass?"

"Bitch, bitch, bitch," Ronon said, grinning. John had a packet of lube as well, which meant – well, Ronon wasn't going to think about why John'd come ready to fuck _and_ say goodbye. This was better.

He rolled to the side and told John to lose his underwear, and shoved the towel into place because he'd feel kind of bad if they ruined the bed.

"Face up or down?" he asked, and John gave him a narrow-eyed assessing stare.

"How's your side?"

Ronon shrugged. "Pulls some."

"Right," John said grimly, and crawled over to shove Ronon onto his back. "Like I'm going to let you hurt yourself. Give me that." He plucked the condom package away from Ronon, getting it open and rolling the condom on with practiced ease. He took the lube as well, slicking Ronon's cock before reaching back and pressing his fingers in. Ronon slid his hands up John's chest, watching the hair curl around his fingers as he circled John's nipples, teasing them to standing before giving each a pinch in turn.

"Fuck," John said, head rolling back, so Ronon did it again, and then John's fingers wrapped around Ronon's dick to hold him steady as he took him in. Ronon remembered this, the perfect way their bodies fit together. He thought maybe he'd gone a little crazy the past few months, to not have let himself miss this – to have let John give this up.

He let John brace his hands on his arms, felt each jerk and shudder as John's body adjusted, watched as sweat darkened John's hair. He gave John a moment, and then pulled his knees up, planting his feet against the mattress and raising his hips to fuck up into John. John bit back a yell, but he was ready for the next thrust, riding Ronon down, finding a rhythm that made Ronon have to work to keep up, that narrowed his world down to the urgent need to come.

He grabbed John by the hips and pulled him down, his neck and shoulders curling up as every muscle tensed in pleasure, and he set his teeth to ride out every pulse that swept up from his curling toes to explode in pleasure that pooled like electric current at the base of his spine. When the waves receded he fell back, the air chill against sweat-sheened skin, and breathed in deep. He got one of his hands to move, fingers clumsy as they traced over John's skin, finding hair and following it down to where John was working himself with long hard strokes, curling his fist over John's so their fingers fit together. Ronon pushed up on his elbow to watch, and John looked down at him in the instant orgasm washed through him. The first splash of come made it as far as Ronon's neck, and John looked so comically surprised that Ronon couldn't help laughing at him, even as he kept stroking, pulling every bit of pleasure from John that he could, until John pushed his hand away and bent forward to taste the laughter from Ronon's mouth, and add his own.

"Well," John said, when they finally stopped kissing. He rubbed at Ronon's come-smeared stomach, with a smirk that showed more satisfaction than chagrin. "You're due for another shower."

"Join me." Ronon rolled upright, stretched, and then rubbed at his side where he figured the ache'd be bad in the morning. "Wait – can we eat food here?" John shrugged, then pointed at the phone. "Get a lot of food," Ronon said. "You'll need the energy." John started to get up, and Ronon grabbed his hand, wanting to make sure there weren't any misunderstandings. "This is okay?"

John squinted at him, tilting his head.

"I'm going to have kids," Ronon clarified. "You'll probably get roped into being some kind of uncle. Teach them how to play golfball and stuff. And you and me, it'll be like it was. A secret. No one will know." He raised one shoulder and let it drop. "And I want to know if that's cool with you."

"I like kids. I'd... like to see yours." John gave Ronon's hand a squeeze. "We can tell people if it's important. Like Amelia and her friend. Teyla, maybe."

"I want to see Lorne's face if you tell him. _He_ thinks I'm cheating with Amelia."

"The thing is," John said, and he got up and went over to go study the hotel menu tucked under the phone, "even if no one else ever knows... you and I know, and that means something."

"Like a vow," Ronon said, suddenly feeling like an idiot for having to have John spell that out for him. "On Sateda, I'd swear loyalty to you on my name and my house." John's eyes flicked to him, then back to the menu. "Do _you_ want commitment jewelry or something, like McKay got for Keller?"

John made a horrible face. "I was thinking more along the lines of a hamburger and a baked potato. You?"

"Meat," Ronon said. "Any kind, cooked. And some of that soda drink." He got up and kissed John on his way to the bathroom.

"Your kids are going to think we're really lame," John called after him.

"I can live with that," Ronon said, and grinned ear to ear just thinking about it.


End file.
